Short stories

Evil doll

The arts class seemed interminable for all students who had chosen it, believed to obtain credits without doing anything. At the front of the class, the teacher argued alone on the conception of the human body and about the many people which served as models every year. Stacey Travis handed discreetly a piece of paper to her friend placed behind her while her boyfriend Lance Parker drew obscenities on a sheet. He handed his masterpiece to a friend who immediately began to laugh. Finally, the drawing did a class tour before landing on the desk of Spencer Wilson. Indifferent, he took the sheet in his hands and was preparing to crumple it when he saw a name. It was his. He looked the drawing more attentively: Lance had drawn him having sex with Mrs. Bolton, the teacher aged about seventy. He was disgusted to see that Lance unfortunately had talent since his two models resembled the originals. He crumpled the sheet, furious. When he tried to rise to throw it away, Mrs. Bolton called him out.

"Mr. Wilson, you are not going to throw out one of your works!"

The face of the young man became red.

"And why not...?"

"Show me your work and I will judge myself of the relevance of destroy it."

"No, I prefer that you..."

Lance began to roar with laughter, knowing full well that it was his work. Jake Stanford, a friend of Lance, strongly applauded Spencer, saying:

"Show it! You will be able to make the most of your popularity!"

Other students followed while the teacher walked to him and tear the sheet out of his hands. Spencer wanted to die. Everyone looked at him, laughing. Finally, Mrs. Bolton unfolded the paper and froze in horror when she saw what was on it. She put a hand to her mouth before savagely fold the paper. She glared at the young man with her icy stare.

"You'll be in serious trouble, young man. Follow me to the principal's office."

The whole class laughed. Mrs. Bolton escorted Spencer out of the room, holding him firmly by the arm. They went into the principal Coolidge's office. The old teacher threw the drawing in front of him with a disgust gesture. Before the principal could say a word, Mrs. Bolton hastened to explain why this irruption while keeping a good distance with the drawing. Mr. Coolidge frowned, watching Spencer who tried to disappear between the floor tiles. Once the explanations were completed, the principal could finally ask Mrs. Bolton to leave them alone so they could talk quietly about the situation. Without another word, the woman left the room after throwing one last disgusted look at the young man. Coolidge sighed, looking up at the drawing.

"You're Spencer Wilson, right?"

The boy lowered his head, simply shaking it.

"Is it you who has been beaten by the football team to celebrate the end of the year?"

"Yes..."

"Can you tell me what happened in your head that you..."

"I... I haven't made this drawing, sir..."

"Why was it found in your possession?"

"A... another student drew it and sent it to the whole class while Mrs. Bolton wasn't looking..."

Coolidge sighed again, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't want this stuff in my school. And I don't want to know anything about your sexual attraction, Spencer. Nobody wants to know. Why not hiding it for some time?"

"I haven't made this drawing!" Spencer exclaimed, raising his head. "This is not me!"

"So tell me who did it."